


Then Again, Maybe Not

by sammyatstanford



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Psychopaths In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyatstanford/pseuds/sammyatstanford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Even psychopaths have emotions. Then again, maybe not." - Richard Ramirez, the 'Night Stalker'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Again, Maybe Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellhoundsprey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/gifts).



> A belated Happy Birthday to the talented, charming, utterly unsurpassed [hellhoundsprey](hellhoundsprey.tumblr.com)! Thank you for being a little light in my life and, of course, for sharing all of my kinks.
> 
> Elements of this story were borrowed from the excellent Criminal Minds episode "The Apprentice."

The boy is tall, thin but muscled, like he’s probably fifteen or sixteen and getting hit by growth spurts left and right, like he’s probably missing out on basketball practice because he has to spend his Thursday afternoon here instead. He’s in track pants and a t-shirt faded with age, regulation orange vest obscuring any hint of what the logo on the front once was. He’s looking down, fringe of bangs over his forehead, hiding his eyes. When Jensen calls the newcomers over, the kid glances up as he shuffles forward. Soft skin, long lashes. His lips are pink.

Jensen’s hands itch. He resists the urge to adjust himself in his coveralls.

He gives the group the usual spiel—the project they’ll be focusing on today, how to get him to sign off on their hours, what to do if they can’t make it on a scheduled day—and then he’s passing out equipment, giving people specific assignments. He sets the kid to work by himself, raking old pine straw out of a bed and pulling the weeds so it can be refilled later with fresh product.

He gives it ten minutes before he heads over. “Looks like you’re doing a great job…” lets his voice trail off like a question, holding out his hand.

“Jared,” the kid says, tugging off his work glove so he can accept the handshake. The kid’s palms are warm, a little sweaty.

“Jensen,” he offers again, in case the kid already forgot. He’s been holding on to Jared’s hand probably too long, but Jared’s not pulling away. After a few beats, Jensen finally lets him go. “Mind if I join you?” he asks, holding up the rake he’d carried over with him. “Since you’re stuck here alone?”

The kid flushes, faint slash of color Jensen sees on his cheekbones, or maybe he’s just overheated from working in the Texas spring. Jensen tries very hard not to see things that aren’t there. “Sure,” he shrugs.

Jensen sets to work and tries not to let himself get distracted by the way the muscles of Jared’s forearms bunch and flex as he moves.

 

***

 

Three weeks later, Jensen’s on his knees in the grass, soil on his gloves, Jared at his elbow. “Why’d you do it?” he asks, tone deliberately casual.

Jared looks at him sideways with blue-grey-green eyes, rubs a weed with little yellow flowers between his thumb and his palm. “I just wanted to,” he finally answers, maybe not as soft or ashamed as a good kid with good grades ought to be.

“And why’d you plead guilty?”

Jared shrugs, tosses the weed into the wheelbarrow with the rest. “Because I liked it.”

Jensen’s gut clenches.

 

***

 

Jensen talks to the guy in charge of Jared’s probation, says a lot of pretty words about _good kid_ and _really_ _opening up to me_ and _just wanna understand so I can help him_ , gets himself a look at the crime scene photos. The house Jared vandalized had been empty for years, full of drop cloths and dust, but Jared had really taken it apart, destruction so complete the kid must have hurt himself in the process.

Jensen appreciates the enthusiasm, laments the lack of artistry. What Jared really needs is an outlet, and maybe a guiding hand.

 

***

 

Jared works at a place called Hal’s Pet Shop. He wears a white polo shirt that looks like heaven against the tan of his skin, and his boss is a fucking bitch, the way he tells it. Jensen doesn’t own any pets, but he shows up anyway, buys a lot of dog toys as his excuse, keeps them in the hall closet because he doesn’t want to get rid of them. Sometimes, if the store’s not busy, he’ll stay for far too long, just chatting with Jared, appreciating the pop of dimples that accompany Jared’s smile. He’s never met a boy that likes to smile as much as Jared does.

Jensen’s world was dull, monotone before Jared came into it. But Jared—Jared is riot of color.

One day, they’re talking about the upcoming game, Packers vs. Cowboys. Jensen mentions the twice-baked potatoes he’s planning to make, and Jared frowns. “I can’t watch,” he says dully. “’m grounded ‘til I finish my community service.” He says it sort of shy, the way he always gets when he talks about the things that make him so glaringly a teenager, like he thinks Jensen’s gonna realize all of a sudden he’s been hanging around with a kid and bail. Jared’s sweet like that.

“Well,” Jensen offers, keeps his voice open and not at all sly, “you could come watch it at my place.”

Jared smiles brightly, but he’s still shaking his head and dropping his eyes. “I wish. My mom won’t…she won’t let me go somewhere else if she knows I’m gonna have fun.”

“You could maybe say you’re going to a friend's. You know, to study?” Jared’s looking thoughtful, so Jensen presses forward. “You got any friends that’d cover for you?”

This smile is different, spreads slow and easy across Jared’s face. It’s deep, bright, intoxicating. Jensen presses his fingertips hard into the particleboard counter so they don’t start twitching. “You really want me to come over?”

“Dude, of course. You’re cool and we’re…friends, right?”

Jared’s grinning like Christmas morning. Jensen’s mouth is dry.

 

***

 

On Sunday, Jensen picks Jared up two street corners down from his house. Jared’s in a grey Cowboys t-shirt and nicer jeans than the khakis he wears to work. Jensen bets the inseam would feel great against his thumb.

When they get to his apartment, he offers Jared a beer. Jared gives him a long look, like maybe he’s just realizing how much older than him Jensen must be, but he nods, watches Jensen pop it open on the ring he wears on his right hand. Jared takes the bottle when he hands it off, sprawls out on the couch like he’s in his own house while Jensen gets the TV showing the pre-game, sits down with a little less than a polite distance between them.

He’s reaching out to grab his beer where he’d set it on the coffee table, when Jared’s hand reaches out to stop him. He tugs Jensen’s hand toward his own body, cups Jensen’s palm in his, fondling the ring with curious fingers. “Where’d you get this?” he asks, thumb curving over Jensen’s hand to rub at the ring on the front side, too.

“Uh,” Jensen says, totally lost for words. Jared’s heat is bleeding into him through his skin. He swears he can almost see it moving up his arm, like a glow, golden yellow. He curls his hand loosely, backs of his fingers tingling with the sensation of crushing bone, catching Jared’s thumb where it’s resting, but not so tight Jared can’t pull away. He knows he needs to be careful, but when he glances up, catches the look in Jared’s eyes, he thinks maybe a lot less careful than he originally planned. “I won it,” he finishes finally, which is as little of a lie as he can get away with, and Jared nods but doesn’t take his hand away, just shifts so his fingers can slot in between Jensen’s, lets their hands rest on the couch between them.

“Tell me if this isn’t okay,” he says shyly, and Jensen finds himself smiling, helpless. The shit this kid does to him, it’s like nothing else.

“It’s definitely okay,” Jensen replies, picks up the beer with his other hand and takes a long swallow.

The game’s good, close, and the ‘boys go into the locker room at halftime up by only a field goal. Jared’s an enthusiastic fan, but despite his flailing and vehement exclamations, he still hasn’t let go of Jensen’s hand. Instead, it’s ended up more or less in his lap, and he’s alternated between stroking his fingers over Jensen’s palm and letting Jensen rub a thumb over his knuckles.

Jensen gets them fresh beers—Jared’s second, his third—puts out chips and salsa since they finished off the potato skins during the second quarter. While he’s in the kitchen, he asks Jared about work, and Jared goes off on a tangent about Drew, his boss. Jensen’s glad he’s digging through a cabinet so Jared won’t see the smile he can’t keep off his face when Jared gets heated like this. Jared’s a hurricane, one hundred percent full force passion about everything he does, hates just as fully as he loves. Jared is a miracle of color in the grey landscape of Jensen’s life, and he doesn’t even know it.

Jared makes him feel alive, like almost nothing else.

“I just want to fucking punch her, right in her stupid cunt mouth,” Jared finishes, fingers squeezing ruthlessly at the throw pillow in their grip, jaw set hard like he’s grinding his teeth.

Jensen laughs lightly. “I know that feeling, man,” he answers, lets himself reach out and grip into the taut muscle of Jared’s shoulder. “Ain’t nothing feels better than taking out a little frustration with your fists.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks, and it’s quiet for a long moment. He shifts in his seat. “You ever, uh…you ever done it?”

“What? Hit somebody?” Jensen asks low, leaning in close, and Jared licks his lips, nods. “Yeah,” he continues, voice gone a little gravelly but he doesn’t even know it, too lost in sense memory—the impact of flesh, the heat of fresh blood on his skin. “Yeah, I’ve done it.”

“What was it like?” Jared whispers, and he’s looking at Jensen like he thinks Jensen’s some kind of god, and fuck, Jensen _feels_ like it, dares anyone to have Jared look at them that way and not. He’d suspected that Jared might be like him, a little twisted just his way, seen the sort of rage that Jared was capable of, but this, the way Jared’s reacting, _wanting_ so obviously, it’s like Jared was made for him. Like they were made to be together.

“It’s…like nothing else. It feels like being alive. Really alive.” He pauses to let it sink in, considers his next words carefully—Jared’s giving him all the right signals, so loud and clear they can’t be mistaken—rubs a hand across his chin, sees Jared’s attention catch on his mouth. “You know, the only thing that comes close?”

“What?” Jared asks, breathless, like a whimper.

Jensen chuckles low, flicks his eyes down like he’s shy, locks his gaze onto Jared’s through the fringe of his eyelashes. “Getting fucked.”

Jared’s eyes flutter closed when he says it, pulse beating so hard under his skin Jensen can see it. “Jen…” he whispers, makes it sound like pornography on his lips, and Jensen is so fucking done with the games.

“Gonna kiss you, Jay,” Jensen growls, and Jared says, “yeah, _fuck_ , do it,” and then they’re meeting with teeth and tongues, nothing hesitant between them, and it feels like relief to know that Jared’s been wanting this just as bad as he has, that he feels that ache for Jensen somewhere deep down in his bones. Jared’s tongue is in his mouth, leaning Jensen back onto the couch, curling down over him like he doesn’t want to put his full weight down until Jensen gets hands on his hips and tugs him in, shifts them so they’re laid out on their sides, pressed full length together so he can feel every inch of Jared’s warmth all down his body. One of Jared’s hands slides up under his shirt, strokes the soft line of hair that runs under Jensen’s waistband before he walks long fingers up Jensen’s ribcage, presses a thumb firmly against Jensen’s nipple and rubs, a dull shock of sensation that makes Jensen moan. Jared seems to get the message, starts plucking at the soft little point with thumb and forefinger, again and again until Jensen’s _shivering_ , until Jared abandons the task to shove Jensen’s t-shirt up under his armpits and tears his mouth away from Jensen’s, bends his neck to bite at the hot, sensitive flesh.

“Jared, god,” Jensen chokes out, and he wants to shove Jared away and pull him closer at the same time, but Jared doesn’t seem too concerned either way, because he just keeps working Jensen over with his tongue and his teeth, every sensation sharp and painful and _so fucking good_ , and Jensen cries out when those clever fingers start tugging on his other nipple, totally out of rhythm with the sucks and flicks of Jared’s mouth so there’s no way for Jensen to acclimate, no choice for him but to bury his hands into Jared’s shaggy hair like it’s gonna tether him to the planet, hips moving in frantic little circles against the solid press of Jared’s body against him in a desperate search for friction. He’s embarrassed by the noises he’s making, doesn’t understand when this whole thing flipped from Jensen being older, wiser, to Jared playing his body like a fucking fiddle, but he really doesn’t care, just lets Jared take him. “ _Fuck_ , Jay, need—I need— _shit_ —“ and Jared makes a harsh noise into his skin, teeth clamping down _hard_ and fingers pinching tight as he presses the base of his free hand right into Jensen’s cock. Jensen ruts up against it once, twice, and then he’s looking at the back of his own skull as he comes, sensitive and sticky and right into his jeans like he’s the teenager here.

Jared’s generous enough to back off after a minute, hand still massaging up the length of Jensen’s cock through the denim, mouth panting hot air over Jensen’s tormented skin like he can barely hold himself back from attacking it again. Jensen settles his hands onto Jared’s shoulders, sure that he must have tugged ruthlessly at Jared’s hair when he came. “Wanna suck you, Jay,” he breathes, and Jared looks up at him with red lips and dark eyes, looks like sin personified as he moves sinuously back across the couch, legs sprawled open. Jensen goes for his fly, gets his jeans down and off, slides his hands up miles of leg, sparsely covered in dark hair, frames Jared’s fucking _perfect_ fucking cock with the vee of hands. “Fuck, Jen,” Jared whispers.

On the TV, the Cowboys finish their opening drive with a touchdown, but Jensen’s too busy swallowing Jared down to notice.

 

***

 

The thing is, Jensen only got in a fight the one time. Yeah he’d liked it, really fucking liked it, liked it so much it had scared him, actually, but he doesn’t exactly have a wealth of experience. Doesn’t stop Jared from asking him about it, though, again and again, and Jensen likes that, too, likes the way it riles Jared up, gets him all hot under the collar so that Jensen’s describing the way it feels to have bones shatter under your force, the feeling of utter and absolute clarity, knowing _you could kill him_ with nothing but your hands, while Jared’s hands are all over him, fingers pressing deep, cutting his stories off with hitched breaths and broken moans until Jared prompts him “more, tell me more,” as he fucks his way in deep, with the utter abandon of a teenager who doesn’t even know how good he’s got it.

 

***

 

Jared finishes up his community service after two months, but somehow it only gets easier for them to meet. Jared skips shifts at work, shows up at the door at 11 AM on Jensen’s Tuesdays off when he’s supposed to be in school. Jensen worries, wonders what Jared’s mom will say, when she was so concerned about him getting back in line after the vandalism incident, but when he asks, Jared just laughs, answers “that bitch doesn’t give a shit about me, Jensen, she’s so far off the wagon this time.”

Jared’s got a lot of scars for someone so young, interestingly shaped ones, like the little moons of burned skin or the fingers that bend wrong like they weren’t properly set after being broken. They don’t talk about it because they don’t have to, because Jensen can _see_ that Jared’s right, that bitch _doesn’t_ care, doesn’t get a say, not the way she treats Jared, his sweet little Jay, a fucking gift to this whole ridiculous, stupid, worthless universe. Jensen has no idea what she looks like, but it doesn’t stop him from thinking of her, face destroyed, broken and bleeding under his hands when he’s answering Jared’s pleas for _more tell me more, Jen_ , when Jensen’s taking care of Jared exactly the way he deserves to be taken care of, as something treasured, as something loved.

Oh god, how Jensen loves him.

Jensen buys a camera, buys a photo album, fills up the pages with pictures of them everywhere they go, to the park, to dinner, to the movies. Prints every single one he takes, even the bad ones, because every single one is precious, a moment of Jared in his life that Jensen is never going to let go of. He whispers promises, right into Jared’s ear, while Jared moves inside him, muscles of his back slick with sweat under Jensen’s grasping hands, promises that he’ll take Jared away, that he’ll give Jared anything.

They’re laying together one afternoon, Jared sloppy and sated on his chest, his fingers combing the sweat through Jared’s hair, when Jared looks up at him, eyes all hope and trust, and says, “I wanna do it, Jen.”

“Do what?” Jensen asks.

Jared licks his lips, casts his eyes down, and Jensen’s heart is so full it aches. “Do what you did. Hit somebody.”

There’s a little frission of heat down Jensen’s spine at the words that leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Yeah? You want that?”

Jared shifts up onto his elbow, one palm on Jensen’s chest, right over his heart. “Together. Wanna do it together, the two of us.”

And Jensen can’t help but smile at that, at the way Jared just opens up to him, shares all the secret parts of himself with Jensen so freely. At the way he knows that Jensen will give him whatever he wants. “Okay,” Jensen agrees. “We should, you’ll love it, Jay. You’ll love it.”

Jared breathes out a little “yeah” and Jensen can feel Jared’s dick twitch against his thigh. He cups his face in his hands.

“But we’re gonna do it, right, okay? We gotta be careful.”

“Of course,” Jared answers solemnly. “We can do it however you want. I just,” he licks his lips again, hips rolling languidly against Jensen’s leg now, and Jesus, the kid’s refractory period is actually gonna kill him one day, “I just _want_ it.”

“Yeah, baby, anything. Anything for you,” Jensen whispers, right into the seam of Jared’s lips.

 

***

 

They keep it simple. Jensen drives them to a bar in a suburb forty-five minutes away on a Saturday night, when it’ll be plenty busy enough to keep them unnoticed. They get there late, late enough that half the patrons will be well on the way to toasted, and lean on a high-top table, stand much too close together, Jensen’s hand resting possessive just above Jared’s ass. Jared gets a Coke, Jensen gets a beer, and they treat it like any other date. It doesn’t take especially long to attract negative attention, not in a place this conservative, and Jensen’s just leaning into Jared’s pink mouth that hasn’t dropped the irresistible, secret smile it’s been carrying since they walked in the door, when there’s an oppressive heat too close to his back, and a voice slurring, “Nobody wants t’see that shit. Get outta here, faggots,” and Jensen schools the spread of his smile down into an offended frown, spins on his heel.

“Hey, why don’t you back off, asshole,” Jensen starts hotly. “We ain’t bothering anybody.”

“Botherin’ _me_ ,” the guy replies, steps right up into his face, body odor and whiskey breath a noxious cloud between them, and Jensen would be disgusted if he didn’t know what was coming.

“Yeah well, why don’t you go back to the hole you crawled out of, you worthless sack of—” and that’s all it takes for the guy to get fat fingers caught up in Jensen’s collar, so Jared can say “get your fuckin’ hands off him” and shove the guy, wind up a fist, slug him right across the jaw. The guy’s head snaps back, coordination shot to shit by liquor, and he’s got no chance, not with Jared’s mile-long reach and years of fury pent up just for this kind of asshole. Three hits, jaw, cheekbone, and a solid one in the temple with his offhand, and there’s blood at the guy’s mouth and nose as he totters precariously. Jared gets in close, shoves a knee into the guy’s gut and an elbow into his spine, and then the guy’s crashing to the cement floor, bar stool at the next table toppling with a crack of wood when the guy’s booted foot hits it as he splays out.

Jared makes a move like he’s gonna go for the stool, but Jensen’s been watching the scene around them out of the corner of his eye, gets a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he says, fists a hand in the back of Jared’s shirt to tug him back. “Come on, Jay, we gotta go,” and Jared spins back toward him, gives him a look that’s nothing but violence, like he doesn’t even know who Jensen is, but then his face splits open on a grin so beautiful it’s like poetry.

“Yeah, okay, _fuck_ , okay,” he says, crowding right up into Jensen, and then Jensen’s shoving him toward the door. Get in, get it done, get out quick, just like they’d planned it.

He gives the asshole an imperious look down his nose. The guy’s a mess, blood dripping, deep red skin where he’ll be bruised black and purple tomorrow, and Jensen can’t help it, gets a sharp kick right into his sternum as they pass before he lets Jared yank him out the door.

They run to their car, parked down at the end of the row under a broken streetlamp where it’s unlikely even a camera could catch the license plate, and burn out of the parking lot, Jared hooting through the open window, smile glowing on his face like the orange-gold-pink of sunset.

“We did it! We fucking _did_ it! _Shit_! Do you see that fucker _drop_? Holy _shit_ , Jen!” And then lightning-quick he’s not leaning out the window, but plastering himself up against Jensen’s side across the center console, mouth and teeth on Jensen’s throat.

“ _Fuck_ , Jay,” Jensen grinds out, and Jared gets his palms kneading at Jensen’s thigh and says, “Pull over, pull over, _now_ ,” and Jensen obeys immediately, slams on the brakes and turns into the empty parking lot of a Home Depot, barely gets the car turned off before Jared is all over him, hands pulling at his shirt like Jared thinks he can rip it off, which Jensen gets because he feels unreal right now, surreal, fucking _heroic_ , like he can do anything, be anything. Jensen does his best to help, shrugs out of his overshirt and gets his hands on Jared’s wrists, guides Jared’s hands under his wife beater to push it up and over his head before Jared attaches his mouth to Jensen’s neck.

“Backseat, backseat, c’mon,” Jensen says, and shoves Jared towards the space between the front seats. Jared manages to wiggle his way through, which should be impossible as tall and long as he is, but then he’s got hands under Jensen’s armpits and he’s forcing Jensen through it, too, spilling Jensen out across the backseat with Jensen’s legs still caught up in the center console, biting and sucking at Jensen’s chest.

“Wanna fuck your mouth, Jen, please?” Jared begs, and Jensen doesn’t have to agree, just untangles his legs and stretches out, back against the door, one foot on the floor and one on the seat, knee bent so Jared can lean back against Jensen’s thigh as he tugs at his belt, fumbles with his button and fly. Even in the dim light, Jensen can see the way Jared’s knuckles are swollen and smeared with blood, remembers the deep, unexpected agony of it after his first fight, wants to run soothing hands over Jared’s skin, but Jared’s too far gone to care, just knee-walks the short distance to Jensen’s waiting mouth and slides himself right in, back hunched awkwardly against the roof of the car, neck curved down so he can stare straight into Jensen’s eyes, no hesitation as the head of his cock slides right up against the roof of Jensen’s mouth and back into his throat, hot and hard and ruthless.

“Please,” Jared begs again. Jensen manages to nod even with the awkward angle of his neck, and Jared puts his beautiful, bruised hands on Jensen’s face, slides his dick out against the press of Jensen’s lips and fucks right back in, thrusting deep and then shallow in no discernible pattern, a total slave to what Jensen’s mouth does to his body, and god Jensen feels so powerful, so _needed_ , that he’s dizzy with it.

Faintly, he hears sirens in the background, getting louder, closer, until Jared’s skin is flickering blue and red in the darkness of the car and he’s coming into the clutch of Jensen’s throat, Jensen running his tongue all over Jared’s cock as it slips out of his mouth to be replaced with Jared’s lips, murmuring “Fuck, I love you, love you so fucking much,” as he licks at the taste of his own come.

“Jared,” Jensen responds, breathless and so turned on he’s shaking as he watches Jared tug his own jeans further down, over the curve of his ass now, before he reaches around Jensen, fumbles out the lube that Jensen left in the map pocket after the first time he rode Jared in the backseat.

“Gonna give you something, like you gave me,” Jared whispers, squeezing lube onto his palm, slicking the first two fingers of his other hand before it disappears around his hip, and Jensen just watches with wide eyes as Jared fingers himself open.

When Jared sinks down on his cock, Jensen knows with absolute clarity that he’ll die before he ever gives this up.

 

***

 

It’s been four months since he met Jared, four months since his empty life exploded into vibrancy like a flowerbed in spring, and Jared’s all but moved in to his place, stuff spilling out of the duffel bag he repacks at home once a week or so, more and more clothes collecting in Jensen’s apartment as time carries on. Jared’s happier than he’s ever been, and every time his mother calls, he just rolls his eye and laughs. He gets fired from his job by Drew, the uptight bitchass little whore, but picks up part-time work at the park with Jensen so they can be together there, too, even though he complains often about how much he misses the puppies.

It’s been four months, and they’ve done it six times, picked fights at bars all over the greater metro area and even jumped a guy a couple blocks down from a convenience store in a shady part of town when Jared decided drunk targets were easy prey.

It’s been four months, and it’s Jared’s last day of school before summer. It’s a Friday, so Jensen’s at home, waiting impatiently for Jared to get home, and when his boy spills through the door, crowing with victory after his last exam, Jensen’s there to catch him in his arms, with his mouth. He’s hoping to move this to the bedroom, to take care of Jared after all the work he’s put in this semester, but Jared’s pulling away before he can make a move.

“I got an idea, Jen, I got a surprise,” he says, voice rambling and excited like a little kid. His shirt makes his eyes shamrock green.

“Now?” Jensen says, and it’s a little petulant, he knows, but damn it, he wanted to _celebrate_.

“Tonight,” Jared says, like a promise, “but I gotta go out, pick up a few things, okay?”

“I could come with you,” Jensen offers, but Jared shakes his head.

“Then it’s not a surprise, baby,” he says, so sweet and happy that Jensen can’t even be resentful.

“Fine, okay, go,” Jensen acquiesces. “But just....” He draws Jared’s mouth back to his, kisses him deep and dirty and fulfilling and hopelessly unsatisfying because Jensen’s never completely happy unless they’re connected directly, walks them back toward the kitchen until Jared’s pressing him backwards over the little bar.

Jared finally pulls away, but this time there’s definite reluctance. “Stop being a distraction,” he orders, but it’s teasing, and Jensen just runs a finger over the slick line of Jared’s bottom lip.

“Okay, okay. You can go.” Jared kisses him once more, just a warm press of lips, and then he’s waving, flashing white teeth as he disappears back through the front door, grabbing Jensen’s car keys off the console table as he goes.

 

***

 

“I still don’t get why we couldn’t drive,” Jensen says for probably the third time as he follows Jared off the bus. Jared had driven them to the train station furthest away from Jensen’s apartment and left the car in the parking deck, steering Jensen onto the southbound train before dragging him off at a stop in one of the worst parts of the city and then pulling him onto a bus that ran right into skid row.

Jared grins over his shoulder. “Because you always taught me to be safe,” he answers, a barely repressed spring in his step as he heads down the sidewalk. Jensen doesn’t get what there is to be so happy about; there’s trash in the gutters and what are clearly a bunch of hookers lining the sidewalk, but he follows Jared gamely, curiosity itching under his skin.

Jared turns a few corners, seems to know right where he’s going, and Jensen realizes he must have spent ages planning this all out, this special surprise just for Jensen, and it makes him feel warm and content, almost puts a spring in his step, too.

Eventually, Jared approaches one of the call girls, a young thing, long dark hair and short, short skirt, leaning against a wall a bit of distance away from anyone else.

“Excuse me, miss?” Jared starts politely, and the girls turns her head, gives him an appraising look.

“You lost?” she responds.

“No, I was actually, uh, wondering how much? My friend here,” and Jared puts an arm over Jensen’s shoulders, pulls him up so they’re standing side-by-side, “well he’s never…you know.” He drops his voice conspiratorially. “He’s never _been with_ a girl.”

The girl’s eyes shift over to him, give him a once-over. “Just him?”

“Well,” Jared says, voice dropping even lower, leaning closer, “he wants to watch first, you know? See what he’s…getting himself into.”

“You got a car?” the girl asks, and Jensen doesn’t know what’s going on, but the way Jared squeezes his shoulder says he knows she’s giving in and he’s happy, and it sends a little thrill right through Jensen’s chest.

Jared drops his arm away from Jensen, shrugs awkwardly. “We took the bus.”

But the girl doesn’t seem to mind, just tosses her hair over her shoulder and says, “All right, I got a place,” before turning away, leading them further down the block, away from the other girls in their puddle of streetlight and into a dilapidated yard between what looks like two empty warehouse buildings.

“Jared,” Jensen hisses, keeps his voice extra quiet so he doesn’t risk spoiling Jared’s scheme, “what the fuck are we doing?”

Jared puts his lips to Jensen’s ear and whispers, “Trust me,” warm and wet, and Jensen’s dick twitches in his pants. The words are simple, but they settle him immediately, because Jensen trusts Jared with anything.

The three of them duck around a few precarious stacks of wooden pallets that create a little partition, shielding the area behind them from the view of the street. “Hope you like doing it standing up,” the girl says, turning to put her back against the brick wall. “Two hundred,” she continues, holding out her hand, and Jared digs a roll of twenties out of his pocket that Jensen has no idea how he got.

Jensen lags back, shoulder almost touching the wall of pallets, sees the girl take the money, make it disappear into her bra.

“You watching, Jen?” Jared asks, and Jensen makes an affirmative noise. He’s confused, excited, burning with anticipation.

The girl bends down, hands under her skirt to take off her panties, and Jared’s hand grabs the back of her head as he slams his knee into her face.

She goes down before she even has time to scream.

“Shit,” Jensen breathes, two steps forward so he’s against Jared’s back as Jared slams the heel of his shoe down into her face. “Shit, Jay.”

“Pull her up, Jensen,” Jared says, and Jensen scrambles forward, gets a grip on her hair, pulls her halfway up, staring down into the bloody mess of her shattered nose. She’s barely conscious, eyes dazed and rolling back, and Jensen feels electricity in his blood. There’s a noise behind him, and he looks over his shoulder to see Jared shaking out a two-gallon Ziploc bag.

“Get her shoulders,” Jared orders, and Jensen shifts so she’s almost in between them, moves his grip down to hold her up by her arms, watches Jared snug the bag down over her face, fist his hand in the plastic at the bottom, pull it so tight around her throat Jensen can see the plastic zipper cutting into her flesh.

“Oh my god,” Jensen whispers, eyes flying up to Jared’s face, to the wicked delight painted there, and Jared catches his eyes for just a second.

“Watch, Jen,” he breathes, voice reverent, and Jensen does, watches the struggle on her face, watches her body fight to stay alive, heels kicking through the dirt, hands coming up to tug uselessly at Jared’s steely grip. Even through the plastic he can hear her choking, gasping, the clear plastic fogged over with her panting, weaker and weaker until her body shudders violently and then sags in his arms.

He stares at her slack face for a long moment, finally tears his eyes away to look up at Jared, who’s staring right back at him, eyes so bright they look like stars, and just like that, any doubt, any misgivings lurking at the back of Jensen’s mind evaporate, vaporize in the face of all that joy, all that beauty, Jared pure and angelic and perfect and only, only for him.

“Jared,” he says softly, lets her drop to the dirt without a second thought, gets his hands on Jared’s face. “Jared,” he says again, and it’s all he can say, has no other words to express what he’s feeling in this moment, the unadulterated rush of love and happiness through his veins because Jared has given him _everything_ , shared _everything_ , opened himself up, made himself so weak and vulnerable because god, he loves Jensen that much.

Jared’s mouth is on his, sharp and harsh and gloriously _real_ , like he’s more than just taste and touch and sound and smell, like they’re sharing a dimension all to themselves, outside of time and space. They are incomprehensible. They are everything.

“Want you, Jen,” Jared bites into his lips and Jensen laughs, so happy he’s fucking giddy with it.

“Shouldn’t have dragged me two hours away from home,” he replies fondly, and Jared growls, trips over the body to slam Jensen into the brick, teeth and tongue ferocious over Jensen’s lips and skin for a long moment before he finally pulls back, panting like the dead girl, leans his forehead to Jensen’s, rubs his thumbs in endless patterns over Jensen’s cheekbones. Jensen stares up at him, cross-eyed but unable to look away.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you bleed,” Jared growls darkly, and Jensen shudders all over, lets Jared grab him by the hand and drag him away.

They pause for a second, take in the corpse in the dirt, blood smeared brilliant red all over the inside of the bag.

Jared takes them to a different bus line, pulls him to the very back row, and it’s only when Jared settles into the seat with a wince that Jensen realizes he was faintly limping.

“Baby, what is it? Are you okay?” he asks, frantic, watches with worried eyes as Jared tugs up the leg of his jeans to reveal several gouges where the girl must have kicked him with her high heels as she struggled.

Jensen sees red.

“She hurt you! Fucking bitch _hurt_ you!”

“Shh, Jen, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Jared soothes, strokes his hands through Jensen’s hair with a calming motion, but Jensen’s having none of it, grabs onto Jared’s wrists and locks their gazes.

“I’ll destroy them all,” he promises. “I’ll fucking destroy everyone that’s ever hurt you, that ever could.” Jensen swears it with his mouth, swears it with his heart, and in his mind he sees only one thing, the violent rush of his blood calling out for the justice Jared deserves. He can be patient, wait til Jared’s good and ready to do it, but in his mind the countdown has already started. And then they’ll finally be free, can finally get out of this place, go somewhere together.

He lets Jared tuck him up under Jared’s arm, listens with half a mind and a half-hard cock to the utter filth Jared growls into his ear, and he daydreams in Technicolor.

**Author's Note:**

> Serial killers have been a major interest of mine since I was probably too young for it not to be weird, so thank you to hellhounds for letting me gift her with this story! For those who are curious, Jared is a sexual sadist with sociopathic tendencies while Jensen demonstrates traits of Borderline Personality Disorder with a relatively low level of psychopathy that his relationship with Jared nurtures. There's so, so much more of these two in my head than could make it to paper. If you have any questions, feel free to visit me on [Tumblr](http://sammyatstanford.tumblr.com).


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